Aedificum Luminosum
by Enard Blazesong
Summary: Before the eight adventurers risked their lives for the good of mankind, there was a different world. In this early Weyard, four clans are pitched against the very forces of the earth itself in a desperate struggle to stop the creation of the Lighthouses.


**Aedificum Luminosum**

_Before the lighthouses, before the imprisonment of alchemy, before the eight adventurers risked their lives for the good of mankind, there was different world. A world without the confines of Psynergy. A world where magic prospered and was not discriminated against by the common folk._

_Guilds of similar magic-users were formed in this idyllic world, and lent their strength to cities and anyone seeking the greater good. There was no greed for power, and no tyranny amongst the magic users. Peace reigned with the support of the mages._

_Every six years, the most prolific of the magician families congregated at the base of mount Aleph, a majestic, purple-tinged mountain in the centre of Angara. They discussed policies, astronomy, demonology and all things related to their particular professions. But in the year of 895 B.L, the head of the Lupine family announced news that would serve as a dire warning to those who followed the laws of magic…_

* * *

**Chapter One: A Dire Message**

The hall bustled with feverish activity, as black-garbed servants hovered around the long oak tables, refilling goblets and loading platters with roasted meats and fish. Food was trodden underfoot by guests and servants alike, but no one seemed to mind, for the festive atmosphere and bawdy lights and decorations captured even the most uninterested imagination.

The Long Hall at the foot of mount Aleph had been traditionally used for the gathering of mages for over six thousand years. Built by the monks who inhabited mount Aleph's slopes, it stood twenty feet tall, with a sloped ceiling that towered over the diners. The dark, grained wood was carved into majestic figures, and gargoyles decorated the supporting pillars and cisterns. The floor of the hall was dirt, with a loose layer of straw, and was already filthy with scraps and bones. Six heavy tables stood in the centre of the hall, each long enough to support one hundred diners seated on each side. But today, even that was not enough, as the Lupine family had decided to bring its entire clan.

At the end of the Blazesong family table, Enard Blazesong slouched over his haunch of beef and sulked. He hated the crowded atmosphere and could think of nothing worse than listening to his drunken father rant about his military success.

"… and after my famous victory 'hic.. on the Andorran Slope, I proceeded with no more than five hundred men through the general Daila area! We were harrased by the locals, who used 'hic… who used gorilla… gorr.. guerrilla warfare against us 'hic. But we prevailed!" Baron Blazesong pounded his fork but into the table for emphasis. "Prevailed indeed! It was a great day for the clan!… 'Hic… 'Scuse me…" the harsh sounds of retching followed, and Enard could almost hear the Icebrook clan tutting in disapproval. The Blazesongs however, roared in laughter and thumped their hunched leader on the back, urging him to drink more. Enard sighed and gazed around the crowded hall. His mother, sitting next to him, seemed to notice his discomfort and rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"Go and find some children of your age. You'll have more fun with them than with your idiot of a father," she smiled at him, and pushed him gently from his seat. Scowling, he pushed his red hair out of his eyes.

"I'm not a child any more mother. Can't I just stay and listen to the adults?"

His mother's mouth curved slightly at the sides, an easy sign that she was displeased. He took the hint, and tucking his hands in his pockets, trudged into the maelstrom of servants and guests.

* * *

A dim shape sped through the undergrowth, moving so fast it barely disturbed the plants and animals around it. It's four padded paws thumped heavily as it picked up speed, and a gobbet of saliva flew from its maw, past it's dripping tongue and razor-sharp teeth. Suddenly, it's ears pricked up, and the creature skidded to a halt. Slowly, it moved its head from side to side, and sniffed the air, detecting smells that no ordinary animal could sense. As if in fear, it whined, before resuming it's earlier pace. 

For it had smelt blood on the cold night air.

* * *

The festivities were in full swing by the time Enard managed to force his way to the Stormstaff table. Jugglers pranced across a wooden stage, their balls no more than a whirl of coloured light. A monster tamer made a small, heavily armoured creature leap through a ring of fire, while another rolled over, sat, and roared on command. 

Enard spared a moment to watch an exotic female dancer spin in a complex arc, before setting off towards the far end of the table.

"Hey! Enard!" A familiar voice called out to him, and he was suddenly joined by two of his companions. One was a girl of around his age, with cropped blue hair and an icy demeanour. Icebrook tattoos adorned her face, and she wore the traditional blue leather suite of her clan. The other was a purple-robed boy, with long blonde hair and an impish grin. The runes of Stormstaff shimmered on his robes, and his eyes were highlighted with a black dye.

"Good to see you again, Firesong!" The boy yelled, thumping him on the back. He stood a full head shorter than Enard, but did not seem at all intimidated by his friend's size.

"It's been a while, Naite. I didn't know you were coming." He shook hands with the boy, and then nodded at the girl.

"Good to see you Aelana,"

"Well met, Enard." The girl returned the greeting, bowing slightly.

"Well, I'm not saying that this isn't fun, but… Let's go outside and see if any of the others are willing to partake in some illicit 'activities'…." Naite chortled mischievously.

"What do you mean? What are you going to do…?" Enard laughed, and grabbed his friend in a tight headlock. "You're not talking about smoking that vile plant again are you? What was it called again? Dreamweed?" Naite laughed and the two boys wrestled playfully.

"No, what I meant was… maybe, we could have some mock duels, you know, test the magic power of the clans," Naite pulled himself free of Enard and dusted off his robe. He leant down and picked up his staff from under a wooden bench. The dark wood was inlaid with silver, and intricately carved, but Enard knew there was no stronger wood to be found in any part of Weyard. Without warning, the staff folded upon itself, gradually getting smaller until it was no larger than a small scroll. Grinning at Enard's startled face, Naite slipped the miniaturized staff into his robe pocket. Enard had always wondered what technology allowed the Stormstaff staves to complete their transformation, but the secret lay with the makers of these magical weapons, and they were beyond the reach of mortal men.

"Well? Are you in?" Naite prodded him in the shoulder. "Do you want to see how much I've improved since last time?"

Enard prodded him back, and nodded.

* * *

The creature collapsed, exhausted. Curling up in the shelter of a large beech tree, it sniffed forlornly and whined, letting its large pink tongue droop from its mouth. Even its animal mind understood the urgency of its mission: It had to deliver the report before the sun set; it had to reach the Long Hall before those who pursued it. 

But it simply couldn't run any further. It had reached the end of its strength. Pricking up its ears, it listened.

* * *

Enard stood, panting, facing his opponent. His wooden duelling sword was heavy in his aching hand, and sweat dripped from his deeply tanned skin. His bare arms displayed the traditional Blazesong tattoos: The Hammer, the Tongs and the Axe. His opponent, however, showed no such signs of fatigue. 

"Getting tired already?" Aelana called, jabbing her sword at him in a flurry of quick movements. He deflected them, and then swung himself bodily under the final thrust, rolling underneath her and making her lose her footing. Aelana stumbled under his weight, and fell to the ground, cursing.

"Damn your unorthodox moves, Blazesong pup." She grinned savagely.

"Pfft, I'm still not used to you calling me a 'pup', Aelana. You're only one year older than me,"

"Hah, in human years, yes. If you count my spiritual years, I'm more than twice your age!"

"I'll never understand this whole 'spiritual years' thing you Icebrook believe in…" Enard shrugged in confusion. Aelana rapped him on the head with her knuckle, laughing. Grudgingly, she began to explain.

"Well, when the first Icebrook came into this world from the Frozen Nether, he was able to trace his heritage back over thousands of years. The portal between his world and ours remained open, and more Icebrook moved in-between the two lands. Soon they were a recognised Magic Clan here in Weyard, due to their unparalleled healing skills and powerful water and ice spells. But after a few hundred years, the portal closed again, leaving the Icebrook clan stranded from the rest of their race. One of our elders, Khali the Wise, structured a great crystal scrying-glass, capable of viewing the homeland."

Aelana paused for breath, before continuing.

"…But something went wrong, and the crystal, instead of letting us leave our bodies and view the other land, it separated us entirely from our own minds, and propelled us into the realm of the dead… We had failed to reach our kinsmen, but we had discovered something far more significant… We could now communicate with the dead. Over the years, we discovered that by listening to the voices of the deceased we could extract valuable information on the past; on warfare, economy, technology and religion. Because of this, the Icebrook clan have thousands of years information at their disposal, making them far smarter than any other clan."

"Yes, that's all very interesting, but you haven't explained why your spiritual age is so much higher than ours," Naite butted in.

"That's obvious. I have spent years doing nothing but sitting and listening to the voices of the dead. Time travels much more slowly in their realm, so in reality…. I have spent lifetimes in there… I have been ripened and matured by the energies of the dead realm. I am spiritually strong, healthy and experienced."

Naite's quick brain, for once, could not come up with a witty comeback, and he lapsed into silence.

* * *

The creature staggered on, it's breathing laboured. Its swollen tongue now ran with blood, as the beast was almost delirious with pain. One of its paws had been torn open by a bramble bush, and was encrusted with grime and dirt. The smells of its destination and pursuers alike were getting closer… Suddenly it burst into a small clearing. And it was not alone.

* * *

Naite jumped in shock as a large, furry dog bounded into he clearing in which they had gathered. Judging by the froth foaming at its mouth and the blood, which dripped from various wounds, it was in very bad condition. Without warning, it collapsed, panting weakly. Slowly its fur began to thin, and it's bulky body stretched and elongated in size. In the space of a few seconds, a semi-naked human male lay in front of the three friends. 

"Take… this… take… this… take-…" He gasped, his now-human mouth struggling to get around the words.

"Take what? Who are you?" Enard ripped the front of his tunic off and used it to bind the horrendous gash on the man's lower leg.

"Never… mind… not important… take the message!" The man seemed in absolute panic. He squirmed on the muddy ground, and managed to release a catch on one of his pockets. A slim, rolled-up scroll fell out, and was scooped up by Naite. He began to unroll it, but the man swiped at him savagely.

"Don't… have time! Read it… later…. Get it to the clan leaders! Go now!"

"Hold on, let me heal you." Aelana knelt down and pressed her glowing hand to the man's wounds. He pushed her away weakly, clawing at the ground.

"GO NOW! I did… did… not come all this way, just for some kids to ruin everything! Leave me! They will be here soon!"

"I don't… I don't know! Who are they? Why is this note so important!" Enard took the scroll from Naite and pushed it into his lower pocket. But when he turned back to the huddled werewolf, he was no longer moving.

"Dead," Confirmed Aelana, pressing her thumb to the man's bloodied wrist. Enard sighed sadly and pressed his hands against his heart, and the others did likewise.

"In any case, we should hurry. If that man's advice was anything worth listening to, we should have company sometime soon…" Naite added quietly. Aelana nodded in agreement.

"There's no need for that," a deep, oily voice said smugly. "The company has already arrived."

**

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**Enard: Thank you for reading, please review, as that would appease me greatly. Farewell.**


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